


Hellverse

by DeseraBlackhart



Series: Broken Brain [1]
Category: Hell Scenarios
Genre: Community: freeversefic, Hell, Other, Self-Destruction, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 14:04:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeseraBlackhart/pseuds/DeseraBlackhart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My brain tends to come up with some things that are not so very happy, and my friends love to make me write it all out. Simply put, I put myself through hell in my own brain and sit and think about it. This happens quite often and I believe that it happens too everyone, at least the part where everyone thinks about random scenarios, be they violent or not. Mine just happen to be based as if in a cell down in Hell, I guess that's just where I'll have to base any of my works in. Enjoy, and beware of the violence and slight self "enjoyment" if you can call it that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hellverse

**Author's Note:**

> I am naked except for a thin, worn strip of black cloth covering my breasts. Looking down at my body from above, about a five to seven foot distance between my actually body and where I could see myself. This view got smaller and closer up at times, the place I was in was basically just all black, no door, no way to tell how big it actually was and no way to see if there was a ceiling or not (I assume there is one though).)

I was standing up with my back against the wall, after a few moments my body slid down from the wall and sat down, my lower back against the wall and the back of my feet pressed as hard as they could, as close as they could, to the underside of my upper thighs. My arms were resting against my sides, limp. My hands palm up on the floor, not moving, not even a twitch. The back of my head hit against the wall and stayed there, hair pushed up between my head and the wall; the rest, an un-tethered mess, fell across my shoulders, back, and chest. Some of it was curly; in beautiful ringlets, other strands were kinked or straight but none brushed or sprayed, just laying there glistening in the dismal light.

My head lolled to the side and my hair draped itself briefly across my face until my head rolled backwards, leaving strands of hair to catch on chapped lips as the rest slid back to their previous position. A hiss flowed through the room as my head slid back to the right, cruelly ripping hair along the back wall.

One of my feet slipped out from its crushingly close position and my left leg slapped down straight on the floor, my head slowly looked down, as if every motion pained me, and stared at the flat lying limb. My left hand slowly grabbed my knee cap and pulled, dragging my leg up. Once my calf was in reaching distance I sunk my nails into it and finished pulling it back to where it was before. A bulbous drop of blood formed on a small puncture one of my nails had made on my calf and dripped leisurely down my leg, dripping to the floor. The trail of blood left from that drop seemed to bother me immensely. My chest rose and fell at a higher speed and my mouth had opened slightly, the shine of my teeth bright along with the glistening of my tongue. My left hand again rose and I saw a hard tremor residing within it. It fell towards the drying blood trail and scratched at it, trying to remove the blood but only further smearing wet pieces of half clotted blood around. The smeared blood seemed to unsettle me further as the scratching movements became more frantic until the blood rolled in on itself, like dirt and dead flesh when two palms are rubbed together, then fell off my calf. My left hand ceased its movements and the shaking gradually stopped.

Moments passed and yet my body sat again like it had before. Five minutes, ten minutes, an hour, a day, three seconds, half a second, an eternity passed. Yet no movement, until my legs started to skid against the ground, both attempting to fall straight this time. Before they could hit, my hands rose and dug into the skin above my knee caps and drug back, the first few layers of skin curled and tightened underneath my nails, my legs looked like reluctant buildings rising up into their positions. Four bright lines ran down my legs to mid-thigh, each line was missing skin and now pearled with water released from my pores and blood threatened to rise faster each passing moment. Minutes passed and I could view my head slowly turning from side..to..side..side..to..side. It repeated this motion and my hands rose again, nails poised above the tops of the slowly weeping wounds. Each of my fingers slowly curled and uncurled as my back arched and my head pushed against the wall, my hands fisting and relaxing as my body gradually went back to its previous position. My breathing could be heard rebounding throughout the chamber, ragged and sharp; a wounded animal dragging forth every breath it can and not knowing of anything except those motions.

Sweat dripped down my neck and ran over my collar bone, I watched as the trail of sweat slithered down farther, trailing in between my breasts and was soaked up by the thin black cloth tied there. Suddenly my body arched again and all sounds of breathing were cut off as my legs drew in farther if it was even possible, and my nails hit the floor; the grating sound of them dragging slowly over the floor filled the area and seemed like as a broken scream. Panting, my body started to relax again, this time all of my body slid down and I lay flat on my back on the ground, small bits of the floors material clung and grabbed at my back, each moment ripping flesh. Small whimpering sounds took the place of the panting and the now weakening sounds of my nails against the floor.

I could see my throat tense beneath my chin and a new whimper would escape each time, a pitiful creature of need was born for each sound. My hands started to flutter on the ground in a tense dance of clenching and unclenching fists. Shivers ran up my back causing my body to arch yet again; this time my body immediately sank back down only to be assaulted by yet again, another chill. A low moan swept through the room and my hands moved to dig nails into the thin skin covering my shin bones, the low moan tapered off into another whimper as my nails skidded off the bone and pulled skin up in a gory obsession; returning again and pulling in the same spot as more and more skin ripped off. No more did I have to wait to see blood slowly curl out of my body. My shins leaked with blood, bright against my pale fingers and legs. A trembling hand reached for one of the open wounds and my index finger stabbed into the open would causing a shiver through my body, then it scrapped upwards, collecting blood under the nail.

That finger rose and trembling as it did, slipped into my mouth. My whole body racking itself in a hard tremor, small sucking noises coming from my mouth and then my finger slipped out and trailed down my chin to limply fall to the ground: a small bit of blood resting on my lip and blood lightly coating my teeth. A red tinted line of saliva glinted from my lips and followed the same path that my finger had. A pleasant and thin look of pleasure was thrown across my face, briefly and fleeting.

My head started to rock back and forth and my tongue crept out to lick off any blood that had escaped before. My legs now were the only part of me that trembled, from the burning sensation that they most likely suffered from, the burn, the throbbing of being able to feel my pulse in each and every part of the wounds. The ragged edges and the smooth centers were blood and water mixed, a burn without fire or flames. Another moan sounded, this one desperate. For what I don't know, for what, I could guess. The right side of my bottom lip disappeared underneath my teeth as it was bitten and chewed on, lip reddening and swelling. My back arched and my hands slid underneath, lain flat on. Immediately I could hear protesting sounds start to slip out of my mouth even though my bottom lip filled part of it. The corner of my mouth that I had previously been holding hostage slipped free and there was a chunk of the flesh that had been worn away at, blood now ran freely down my chin, vanishing briefly and reappearing to cascade down my neck then down the center of my right breast.

My hands pulled against my back, trying to free themselves from the weight: I could see the struggle in my own eyes, the heated wanting and fear, two wolves out for each others throats. My heart was beating fast enough that I could see the skin above it quiver and shake, a lusty untamed dance. One hand wrenched itself free and gripped the very upper edge of the side of my thigh and I could see broken, jagged nails trying desperately to dig in further and further, when I was apparently satisfied my hand slowly ever so slowly, started to contort; forcing my nails to try to dig in deeper while they tore through my skin. From my upper thigh to the side of my ribs beneath my breast the skin resisted and gave away, nails gliding under the skin and forcing it to detach.

Quickly my hand ripped down, the trembling hidden by fierce grip my nails had within my broken skin. The tips of my fingers were turning russet from the dried blood and the new coats of wet, and shiny fresh blood.

My hand repeated the procedure over the same spot again and again, the blood and skin pilling beneath my nails and when my fingers slipped off the wound I left trails of blood across my stomach, leg, and unbroken bits of my side until I found the slick wounds again. With great urgency my other hand broke from its hold and my body sat up, both hands going to my side to scoop up as much blood as they could under their nails; flesh peeled to the side, standing out stark red against my pale skin where it was not already covered in a bloody mess.  
My hands then quickly forced themselves into my mouth where I sloppily sucked the blood out from under them. A thin line of spit dribbled out, bright red and splattered throughout the strand there were darker bits, small blood clots. Body trembling like a leaf nearly torn from its branch, head tipped back: mouth wide open in a grin, teeth red and stained, my right hand absently returned to my side and scooped more blood and deposited it into my mouth until my side clotted fully. When no more bits of blood and skin were being sucked out from under my nails I whimpered, then a slow keening rose, a song of loss and want, of need.

Tears fell from one eye as the grin previously slashed across my face started to slip away. My chest hitched and one arm reached to hold myself up, shaking and bending until all resistance fell away. My body landed with a dull thud and lay on its left side. The right side laying with its bright wounds up to the ceiling, a bright sign for the world to see if there was indeed anything besides this small room. Shifting, the ground pulling at my skin once again, my body tightened in upon itself. The base of my spine standing out proclaimed the hic-upping motions coming from my body. The strands of hair that had fallen over my face did not quite cover the tears creating a clean stain down one side of my face, yet no sounds were made that said of the weeping. My hands crawled up my body, lazily almost, and curled into my hair pulling and cupping my skull, my right elbow obscured my face now and the whole world buckled, as if in shock when a broken and forgotten scream ricocheted from my throat.


End file.
